


Candy

by everydaysoul



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Ambiguous/Open Ending, Bottom Jensen, Breathplay, Dubious Consent, M/M, This was supposed to have a proper ending but, Threesome, Unsafe Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-19
Updated: 2015-12-19
Packaged: 2018-05-07 18:12:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,285
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5466050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/everydaysoul/pseuds/everydaysoul
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jared and Misha take Jensen home.</p><p>They keep him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Candy

 

They have everything planned out, to near-excruciating detail. They’re both extremely aware of the hundreds of ways it can go wrong, aware that there’s still that chance of disappointment when they bring him home and he’s doesn’t live up to their expectations. Humans can be so finicky and unpredictable sometimes. Despite everything, Misha’s pretty optimistic, even if Jared prefers to maintain his caution.

The playroom’s already set up and ready, a small, windowless room in the small house they share. They bought the place with this in mind, after all.  Jared thinks it’s slightly on the tacky side to call it a dungeon, especially not after all the work and effort they both put into getting it ready. Jared’s favourite part of is it the suspension rig, the thick, heavy chains that end in a large stainless steel hook, hanging from the ceiling; Misha likes the rows of whips and floggers hanging on one wall, just below a dim red light that illuminates them so prettily.

“I feel like I’m ten years old again, going to the circus for the very first time, ever,” Misha says, his eyes sparkling with mirth and unholy glee, as they get dressed for their night out. It’s a low key place, one of those clubs that usually get ranked somewhere on the beginner-friendly lists.

The place was Jared’s idea; Misha doesn’t care who he has squirming under him, as long as it’s a writhing, struggling body he can hurt. Jared, on the other hand, gets off on the control. He wants someone new, someone he can slowly break and take entirely for himself.

“Your circus the kind that has naked guys prancing about with whips?” Jared says drily.

“Fuck you,” Misha says.  

 

 

 

The club is underwhelmingly unassuming, for a fetish club. Nearly everyone is dressed in jeans, a few of the more daring ones are either in skintight shirts or brightly coloured leggings, but that’s about it. Even the music is just an ordinary, family-friendly pop rock, nothing too lewd or overtly suggestive in the lyrics.

Jensen still isn’t sure why he’s here. Maybe he’s looking for the sex, maybe he’s looking for something else, he doesn’t know yet. It’s not like he has much of an active sex life, vanilla or otherwise; his long hours at the office mean that he doesn’t have much time for even a social life, outside of his secretary and his company partners, who are equally busy with their own work.

But it’s a Friday night, and he’s here entirely on a whim. He was just planning on pulling an all-nighter at work, jogging over to pick up a microwave meal and a few beers, coffee for a few hours later, from the store a few blocks away from his office.

It’s not the first time he’s gone this route, turning off the main street onto a quieter intersection. But he’s never noticed the club until today; the young man selling the coupons outside was attractive, the entry tickets were cheap, and Jensen decided why the hell not.

He’s starting to reconsider his decision, though. Jensen somehow has a whole booth to himself, a corner table that’s slightly hidden from view from the rest of the club by a wall. He sits and stirs at his drink with the straw, the bubbles of his soda slowly going flat, as he watches the crowd. There quite a few people who are content to just mingle around, noisy, animated groups of them gathered around the larger tables.

Jensen wonders if he should join them.

The rest of the club are clearly people looking for hookups, openly flirting and dancing together. There’s a black door across the room from him, leading to the private rooms on the upper floors, according to his ticket stub that’s now a crumpled ball in his back pocket. Fifty for an hour, a hundred thirty for three hours. Jensen doesn’t have that much money with him, but he doesn’t think he’s going upstairs tonight so it doesn’t matter.

He suddenly feels uncomfortable; he’ll just finish his drink, laugh off what was clearly a moment of unthinking stupidity brought on by his sad need to get laid, get to the store before it closes and return to his office to work on that proposal for next week.

God, he’s pathetic. The music starts creeping up in volume, pounding out of expensive speakers on the ceiling and walls.

He picks at the shiny silver ribbon tied in a neat bow around his right wrist. It’s supposed to indicate he’s an unclaimed sub – it was embarrassingly awkward when the guy at the front door asked him for his preference, but the guy was cheerfully unfazed and efficiently wrapped the thin strip of satin onto his wrist in less than five seconds.

“Silver on the right means you’re a bottom – a submissive, or whatever, and unattached. Red’s for the unattached tops, black means they’re taken, white means they don’t know. Yet,” the guy said with a wink, and deftly knotted off the ribbon with a flourish. “Have fun, and remember to play safe!”

The knot’s pretty hard to get out. Jensen frowns, and wonders if he can saw through the material with his keys. He’s not going anywhere out of this club with this on him.

“Hey,” a voice says, and Jensen nearly jumps. “Mind if we join you?”

There’s two of them. Tall, young, good-looking, dressed in casual t-shirts and jeans that somehow accentuate their fit, muscular figures. Jensen’s eyes are automatically drawn to their hands.

They’re both wearing red ribbons, on their left wrists.

Jensen thinks he freezes for a split second. He doesn’t feel particularly appealing at the moment; he’s in an old button-up and faded jeans he keeps in his office for whenever he plans to work through the night, he’s unwashed and his deodorant is definitely working overtime by now. He can’t understand why anyone would even approach him.

“Mind if we join you?” the taller one says, again. He has a young, boyish face and long floppy brown hair, and when he smiles, it’s all warmth and open friendliness. His companion looks a few years older, but he too has a broad, easy grin.

“Sure,” Jensen manages. He doesn’t know why he doesn’t tell them no, he was just about to leave.

They sit on either side of him, and Jensen feels a tiny thrill at how close they are, the way they’ve just casually trapped him between the table and the wall behind his back. It might be completely unintentional on their parts, but the bright red ribbons they’re wearing make him think maybe not.

“I’m Jensen,” he says. His mouth is suddenly dry. Fuck.

“Jared,” the first one says. “And that’s Misha.”

“You’re both,” Jensen says, his tongue stumbling over the words, saying the first thing he can think of, “together?”

Misha laughs. He has a cheerful laugh, bright blue eyes that crinkle up when he smiles. “Not together in the usual sense of the word,” he says, “But we did come here together, if that’s what you’re asking. We do… stuff. Together.”

Jared grins. He languidly flings an arm back to drape over the back of their seats, and leans down to whisper to Jensen, his breath ghosting over the shell of his ear.

“What he means to say is,” he says, his voice low and promising, igniting a nervous fire deep in the pit of Jensen’s stomach. “We want to fuck you. Together, the two of us. Will you let us do it?”

This time Jensen’s mind stutters to a complete halt. And he’s now even more aware of how Jared’s smile is slightly bordering on the dangerous, his gaze soft but somehow also dark and hungry, and how Misha is now subtly inching into his personal space, a hand casually reaching over to stroke his thigh. Something tells him that they’re not the kind who will easily take no for an answer.

Jensen should say no, and hightail the fuck out of the place before anything else happens.

“Okay,” he says, shakily.

Jared and Misha exchange looks. Jensen shivers, whether in anticipation or in anxiety, or in that _fuck what have I done way_ , he’s not sure – so he looks across the room, makes a weak gesture at that black door.

“I don’t have enough money-” he starts, but Jared cuts him off with a derisive snort and a shake of his head.

“No, not here,” Jared says, glancing over at that black door with a brief sneer on his face. “Come back with us, Jensen. We’ll drive you.”

That should set off all the warning bells in his head – Jensen doesn’t just _go home_ with random people he meets in clubs, especially not sex clubs. And definitely not with two men who have already told him outright that they want to fuck him together in some sort of a twisted threesome. He doesn’t even know a thing about them, other than their first names and the fact that they’re actually kind of hot. 

“I’ll go get the car,” Misha says, before Jensen can say no, he’s not going with them, and he slips out of their booth.

They’ve clearly been planning this, Jensen realises-

“Stop thinking so much,” Jared says, _orders_ , and snaking a hand into Jensen’s hair, he grips the back of his head to hold him still, and he leans down to kiss him harshly.

Jensen’s caught off guard, his lips frozen and slightly parted in dazed surprise. But Jared’s hand is strong and unyielding, not letting him move, and when Jared takes his bottom lip between his teeth and tugs lightly, Jensen weakly opens his mouth to allow him to lick his way in.

Jared is easily dominating, fingers tightening in Jensen’s hair in a warning, when Jensen tries to kiss him back. His other hand rises up to lightly rest against Jensen’s collarbones. Jensen stiffens at the touch, thrumming in anticipation.

“Are you okay with this?” Jared says quietly, his lips soft and warm against Jensen’s. “If I choke you?” And his hand moves ever so slightly up, palm now a mildly painful weight against his trachea.

“Y-yes.” Jensen closes his eyes, feels as Jared slowly applies pressure on his bare throat, fingers digging in sharply. He gasps, light-headed when Jared captures his lips again in a bruising kiss, and he’s getting uncomfortably hard in the confines of his jeans.

Jensen suddenly unpleasantly aware that something’s not right, this isn’t how it’s supposed to go, there’s supposed to be negotiation and Jared and Misha aren’t even asking Jensen what he wants, not telling him what they want _from_ him. But Jared is domineering and intoxicating, everything about him demanding that Jensen submit to him, and so Jensen does.

And then Jared’s suddenly pulling away. Jensen looks at him, confused and strangely hurt, and there’s a flash of a self-satisfied smirk before Jared gently says, “Misha should be waiting with the car out front, come on.”

Jared keeps a possessive hand on the small of his back as they leave, steering him as they wind their way through the crowd and out the front door. Sure enough, Misha’s there waiting, the engine idling. Jared gently pushes Jensen into the back, and slides in after him.

“Got started without me, didn’t you,” Misha says.

Jared says something in reply, but Jensen isn’t paying attention. The car moves swiftly through the traffic, and all Jensen can think of is _fuck_ , he really shouldn’t be doing this. But then he looks at Jared, and sees Misha watching them through the rearview mirror, eyes sharp and piercing.

“Eyes on the road, Misha,” Jensen says, a feeble attempt at a joke, to disguise his nerves.

Misha grins. “Never underestimate my ability to multitask,” he says.

A moment later, they make a sharp left, and Jensen realises that he should have been watching the road, he needs to know where they’re going if Jared and Misha turn out to be a pair of psychotic murderers. He looks out at the blinking lights and cars and buildings going by, and relaxes slightly; he’s pretty familiar with this area.

“You still don’t trust us, do you?” Jared says with a quiet laugh. He moves closer to Jensen, wraps an arm over his shoulders to pull him closer.

“No, I do,” Jensen says, although he’s sure they can tell he’s lying. “It’s just that I don’t do this often.”

Jared’s other hand rises to caress at Jensen’s chest, hand moving in slow, gentle circles. He leans in close, murmurs in Jensen’s ear.

“This is what we’ll do,” Jared says softly. “When we get to our place, we’re going to strip you. And then we’re going to kiss you all over, run our hands all over your bare skin. Then we’re taking you into the bedroom, and I’m going to prepare you while Misha holds you down for me. You okay with all this, so far?”

Jensen flushes, shudders as his heart feels like it’s going to beat its way out of his chest. He nods, a shaky jerk of his head.

“Use your words,” Jared chides, like he’s gently scolding a small child.

“Yes, damnit, yes,” Jensen breathes, and Jared smiles in approval.

Jared’s hand strays dangerously downward, so close to Jensen’s crotch. He keeps his hand there, just above the waistband of his jeans, index finger flicking at the button.

“Good,” Jared says. “You okay if we tie you down?”

Jensen’s been expecting the possibility of bondage somewhere, but still he thinks his heart might have stopped for a moment anyway when Jared says it. “Fuck, yes.”

“And then,” Jared goes on, “Misha’s going to fuck your mouth, and I’m going to take your ass.”

Jared pauses, then pops open the button on Jensen’s jeans. Jensen startles and hisses, tries to squirm away out of Jared’s hold. But Jared shushes him, and before Jensen can protest more, he drags the zipper down, reaches into his boxers and gently pulls his cock free.

Jensen makes a small noise when Jared wraps his hand around his cock, slowly stroking, jerking him off.

“We’ll be there in twenty,” Misha says from the driver’s seat. He’s watching them with a small smirk on his lips. “Jared, don’t hog him all for yourself.”

Jared shrugs. “I’ll let you at him later,” he says calmly, then turns back to look at Jensen.

“Don’t you dare come,” he warns.

Jensen screws his eyes shut. It’s humiliating, but he doesn’t know why he isn’t telling Jared to stop, to back off. His hands clenched into fists by his sides. Jared’s hand on his cock is dry and rough, and it hurts a little. He tries to hold himself back, bites down on his bottom lip, but Jared tugs a little too hard, he lets out a muffled whimper.

Jared stops, releases his cock, and holds his hand out in front of Jensen’s face, palm up. Jensen stares at it blearily, his mind too foggy to think.

“Lick,” Jared says.

Jensen’s mouth is dry from his nerves, but he forces himself to gather up a glob of saliva, bends his head down to lap wetly at Jared’s palm. The faint tinge of saltiness of Jared’s skin spreads over his tongue.

“Enough,” Jared says, after a few moments, and his hand returns to curl around Jensen’s cock.

Jensen wants to arch up into Jared’s touch, but Jared’s other arm around his shoulders pull him back, making him sit still. He tries very hard to think of other things, distract himself from the hand wet with his own saliva, now skillfully thumbing at his slit.

 _Don’t come_ , he tells himself. Jared told him not to come, so he’s not going to come. He loses himself in his head, feeling himself hazily drift somewhere fuzzy and warm, and it’s a bit of a shock when the car suddenly stops and he hears Misha’s voice speaking.

“I said, we’re here,” Misha says. He sounds amused.

Jensen nearly sobs when Jared’s hand pulls away from his cock, but it helps him to snap back, the reality of what he’s doing suddenly crashing down around him. He looks out; they’ve pulled into the driveway of a small one-storey house. He doesn’t recognise the neighbourhood; he has no idea how long they’ve been driving, how far out they are from the city.

Jared stops Jensen when he starts to tuck his cock back into his jeans. “Get out like this,” he says curtly.

Jensen swallows hard, and obeys. He walks awkwardly up to the front door, his cock still hard and obscenely hanging out his jeans, balls painfully trapped by the elastic of his boxers. He keeps his eyes down, doesn’t want to know if there might be anyone witnessing his humiliation.

Jared disappears from his side when he finally steps through the door, his relief at finally getting indoors almost immediately dashed by a surge of arousal when Misha pounces on him, forearm across his chest to push him into the wall. The hall is dim, the lights still not yet turned on, but Misha noses at Jensen’s jaw, tongue darting out to lick at his skin.

“My turn,” Misha says, sounding nearly delighted.

Jensen makes an unintelligible sound that’s supposed to be a _yes_ _please_ , but his mouth doesn’t seem to want to cooperate. He reaches out blindly to grip at Misha’s hips, drawing him closer. The rough fabric of Misha’s jeans rub against Jensen’s exposed cock, and he winces.

“No, I want you to take it,” Misha orders, and grinds even harder against Jensen, roughly scraping at the sensitive skin. He nips just below Jensen’s ear. “Don’t mind me if I… ah. Get a little too rough with you.”

Jensen just whines in response. He parts his lips when Misha kisses him, teeth dragging purposefully along the delicate flesh on the inside of his lips. He can tell that Misha is going to be vicious, cruel and sadistic under his happy and cheerful facade.

Misha moves to his throat, licks at the dip between his neck and collarbone, then impatiently yanks Jensen’s shirt open to bare his nipples. Jensen hisses when Misha’s teeth close around one hardened bud, lightly pulling and biting. The sharp stings of pain sends shooting thrills of pleasure through him, and Jensen lets out noises pleading for more.

Jensen’s played with his own nipples before, experimentally rolling them between his fingers, cautiously pinching hard when he wants to hurt himself. But it’s never felt anything like this; Misha harshly twisting and sucking, one small point of exquisite pain blossoming into a heady rush of arousal.

“You like this, don’t you,” Misha says, biting gently for one last time, then moves on to his other nipple. And when Misha’s fingers close around the first tormented nub of flesh, already swollen and red from abuse, pinching hard, Jensen thinks he almost lifts up on the balls of his feet and screams.

“Please,” Jensen says, not even sure what he’s begging for.

“Good,” Misha says, his lips now moving up back again, to plant a surprisingly chaste kiss on Jensen’s shoulder. “Jared and I like it when we’re fucking someone who’s loud. Don’t hold back.”

Jared suddenly appears over Misha’s shoulder. He looks Jensen up and down, and Jensen knows he must look quite a sight; shirt unbuttoned and half-slipping off his shoulders, just enough to reveal puffy, reddened nipples, his cock hanging out his jeans.  

“Got the stuff ready,” Jared smirks. “Misha, what have you been doing to him?”

“Nothing much,” Misha says, now unbuttoning the rest of Jensen’s shirt. Jensen obediently wriggles out of his sleeves, and Misha carelessly tosses the shirt to the floor.

“Come on then,” Jared says, disappearing back into the house.

Misha grins maniacally, then his hand shoots out to grab Jensen by the scruff of his neck. Jensen stumbles as Misha drags him through the house, passing by a darkened living room and through another door into a bedroom.

“Get him on the bed,” Jared says disappasionately.

Jensen falls onto the bed when Misha shoves him. Dazed, he fumbles around to look up at them, and he has to suck in a sharp breath at how imposing they look, standing tall and predatory over him. The back of his neck throbs faintly; Misha dug in his fingers hard, he’s sure it’s going to bruise. He feels his cheeks heating up and flushing with want. 

 _Fuck_.   

Misha and Jared move together like a fluid team, like they’ve done this enough times before that they already know where the other will be. There’s no awkward fumbling, accidental elbows or knees bumping into each other. They don’t even strip completely, just quickly pulling off their shirts and falling into bed around Jensen.

“Come on up here,” Misha murmurs in Jensen’s ear, and hooking his arms around Jensen to pull him further up the bed. Jared follows.

Misha is a solid, stocky wall of strong muscle behind Jensen’s back, holding him still as Jared takes hold of Jensen’s jeans and pulls them down to his ankles, along with his boxers. Jensen whines as his cock springs free, red and achingly hard.

“You’re beautiful.” Jared rubs a soothing hand up and down Jensen’s thigh as he eases off his shoes, first the left then the right. His shoes thud down to the floor, soon followed by his jeans and boxers, and Jared kicks them out of the way.

Jensen twists slightly, acutely aware that he’s completely naked while both Jared and Misha still have their pants on. It makes him feel vulnerable, defenseless, like they’re wielding complete power over him.

“Relax,” Misha says. He’s leaning against the headboard. “Here.”

Misha’s arms hook under Jensen’s armpits, bodily adjusting him so that Jensen’s half propped up on Misha’s chest, his lower body on the bed, between Misha’s legs. The button of Misha’s jeans digs into Jensen’s back, and he shifts himself, as Misha’s hands return to toying with his nipples, rolling and flicking at them, and when he presses his nails into the reddened, sensitive skin, Jensen lets out a muffled sound of distress.

Jared chuckles. “I hope you’re as responsive down here too,” he says, pushing Jensen’s legs apart and settling between his thighs.

Jensen feels Jared’s finger probing at his hole, fingers already slick with cool lubricant. Jensen hasn’t had anyone in quite a while; Jared works in the first finger with some difficulty, the tight ring of muscle contracting hard around the intruding digit.

“Fuck, he’s tight,” Jared says, just as Jensen’s head lolls back, breathing hard as he struggles to adjust. “How long has it been since the last time someone fucked you? Or are you a virgin?”

“Not a virgin,” Jensen manages. “It’s….” he gasps shallowly, “… a year, I think. A one night stand. Don’t even remember his name.”

Misha chortles, Jensen feels his laughter reverberating where their bare skin slides against each other.

“Jensen’s never forgetting _our_ names after tonight, is he, Jensen?”

“Only if-” Jensen starts, but Misha’s forearm is suddenly curling around his throat, the crook of his elbow snug against his Adam’s apple. _Shit fuck shit shit._ Jensen chokes, panicking, his hands wildly scrabbling at Misha to release him, his legs kicking out.

Their response is instantaneous; Misha traps one of Jensen’s legs with his own, pinning it down to the mattress. Jared’s finger slips out of him and he easily grabs his other ankle, bending his leg up to his chest. Jensen’s body protests as Jared folds him nearly in half on one side, legs spreading so wide that the muscles of his back draw taut in pain.

“Jensen. _Jensen_.” Jared’s voice is firm, commanding. “Listen to my voice. You’re still here, we’re here with you, Misha just has his hand around your neck. He’s not going to squeeze too hard. Breathe, just breathe.”

Jensen’s eyes are blown wide, his vision gradually swimming back into focus and he tries to concentrate on Jared’s voice, Misha’s warmth at his back, holding him up. His heart is still hammering frantically, close to bursting out through his ribs. Misha’s arm is still around his neck in a loose chokehold, making it hurt when he tries to breathe in too deeply, and it takes him a few shallow breaths until he’s no longer on the verge of hyperventilating.

“Slow and easy now,” Misha whispers, his voice lowered to a deep, calming rumble.

“I’m going to go back to stretching you,” Jared says. He’s still holding Jensen’s leg in that strained position, knee pushed up to his chest, but Jared doesn’t seem to care.

Jensen whimpers when he feels Jared’s thumb once again circling his hole, then slowly sink in through the puckered muscle with a wet _pop_. He’s dizzy from his fright and the ache running all the way through the left side of his body, making him weak, his limbs heavy and unresponding. If they’re going to kill him after they’re done with him, Jensen thinks woozily, he’s not going to be able to defend himself.

“Look at you,” Misha murmurs. He sounds pleased. “After this and you’re still hard? Oh there’s so much potential in you.”

Jensen numbly looks down; the movement makes him press his throat against Misha’s forearm, and he fights back his panic before it overwhelms him again. He can’t even find it in him to be vaguely horrified when he realises that he’s still hard, cock curving up to his belly, suddenly now more aware of the low hum of arousal thrumming through his body.

“Two fingers,” Jared announces.

There’s a small click as Jared pops open a bottle of lube single-handedly, and pours it directly over Jensen’s balls. It trickles down his perineum in a cold dribble, making him shudder at the sensation. Jared smiles and catches it with the palm of his other hand, still with a finger knuckle-deep in his ass.

“Try to make him come like this?” Misha suggests. “Think you can do it, Jensen? Come with just Jared’s finger up your ass.”

 _Fuck no._ Jensen tries to protest, but Misha briefly tightens his arm around him in warning. Jensen thinks it must be the lack of oxygen, but the anticipation makes his balls tighten, a warm heat building up low in his groin.

Jared slips in a second finger, slightly rougher now. He works his fingers around, scissoring and twisting, and then suddenly they brush lightly against his prostate. Smirking, he pauses, then starts to roll the pads of his fingers around the sensitive nub, stroking and massaging in small circles. Jensen jerks up with a small cry, nearly choking himself on Misha’s hand.

“Here,” Jared says, crooking his fingers and mercilessly _pressing_ , Jensen’s vision goes white.

He’s been hard and so painfully aroused for so long that the effect is almost instantaneous; his orgasm curls out from deep within him, rippling through him in heavy waves of pleasure. He thinks he might have screamed, a strangled sound as Misha actually chokes him, cutting off his air, his body drawing as tight as a bowstring.

It seems to go on forever, and Jensen doesn’t even realise he’s crying until he feels a hand running through his hair, Jared’s voice murmuring something in his ear. He vaguely registers that his throat is bare, Misha’s hands now stroking along his ribs, and he sucks in a deep breath that somehow makes him tremble, still sensitive all over.

“You’re perfect,” Jared says, almost in wonder.

Misha hums. “We’re definitely keeping you,” he says, and for some reason Jensen can’t process through his foggy head, Jared laughs at that.

“Gonna fuck you now,” Jared says, all traces of gentleness gone now, his gaze wild and darkened with lust. “Gonna fuck you so hard that you’re going to feel it for days. What do you say, Jensen?”

Jensen feels it now, his hole loose and stretched open, clenching around nothing. “Please, fuck yes, please,” he says, _begs_ , as he feels his hole twitch yet again, and god he feels so empty. He’s only just barely aware that he’s babbling, feels like he’s floating along something, detached from his body, his limbs weak and pliable after his orgasm.

Misha slips away from beneath Jensen, tenderly laying him down on the mattress. Jensen feels the mattress dip and shifts as Misha rolls over to the side of the bed and gets up, looks up vacantly at Jared.

“Remember what I told you in the car? About what we’re going to do to you?”

Jensen doesn’t want to _think_. He hazily recalls Jared whispering in his ear, dirty and promising, like a threat, but his mind is so muddled that he doesn’t remember anything beyond that.

“We’ll just have to remind him then.” Misha returns, holding something black in one hand. He carelessly drops it onto the bed; it’s a pair of black leather cuffs, the clasps and D-rings a bright, gleaming silver.

Jensen suppresses a shiver as Misha pets the top of his head, somehow instinctively sensing that all Misha wants to do is to cause him _pain_ , and it’s so, so wrong, because the thought sends a surge of heat right to his cock. And then Misha grabs him by his hair, pulls him to the edge of the bed, forces him down until his head is hanging upside down, off the sides. Jensen tries to fight back, half-rising off the bed, but Misha just smacks him down again, a sharp stinging slap to his jaw.

There are little stars of light bursting in his eyes, from the rush of blood to his head. It takes everything he has to focus on breathing, taking big gulping breaths to steady himself; he’s distinctly aware of Jared and Misha manhandling the rest of his body about, and he lets them, too loose-limbed to want to squirm out of their firm hold on him.

“Good,” Misha says, approvingly, briefly glancing at him. He’s busy wrapping the leather cuffs around Jensen’s wrists; out of the corner of his eyes, Jensen sees a long strip of black snaking out from somewhere under the bed, by the headboard. “Breathe, helps with the pressure in your head.”

Jensen feels his arms being stretched out on either side, with almost no give when he tries to pull at his bindings. He’s tied down securely, feet dangling uselessly off the other side of the bed. Jensen tries lifting his head up a little, straining, and he sees Jared positioning himself between his legs, lazily jerking himself off as he shoves Jensen’s thighs apart with a knee.

Misha reappears in his line of vision, and fuck – they’re both _huge_ , Jensen doesn’t know if he’s going to be able to take them both at the same time.

“Ever deep-throated a cock before?” Misha says. The tip of his cock nudges against the corner of his mouth.

Jensen closes his eyes. “Yes,” he mumbles, like it’s a shamed confession.

Misha’s not overly gentle when he inserts his thumbs into Jensen’s mouth, pushing at his molars to hold his mouth open. His cock is hot and heavy on Jensen’s tongue, the distinctive smell of salty musk filling his nostrils. Jensen keeps his eyes closed, losing himself in the sensation of the cock shallowly sliding in and out of his mouth, the feel of Jared slowly fucking into his ass. He’s still oversensitive from his previous orgasm, and every little movement is a hot flare of overwhelming pleasure.

Jared prepared him well, but still it’s like his hole is impossibly stretched wide around the girth of Jared’s thick cock, stuffed deep into his ass. With Misha in his mouth, filling him up at both ends, Jensen feels so utterly used and debauched.

And then Misha suddenly grunts and fucks all the way in, deep.

Jensen chokes, his throat fluttering helplessly around Misha’s cock. Misha actually laughs, holding himself there for a long moment, enjoying Jensen’s distress, before pulling back out.

“Please,” Jensen sobs. “Don’t-” _Don’t stop_ , he wants to say. He’s filled with humiliation, tied down and spread open, and he _wants_ it. Wants Misha to shove his cock deep into his throat, wants Jared to fuck his hole sloppy and loose. Wants it so much that he might come untouched, again.

Misha grips his chin. “Don’t _what_?” He sounds insane, dangerous.

“Don’t stop,” Jensen says brokenly. His entire body shudders as Jared continues fucking him, completely uncaring for the little exchange between him and Misha. “ _Please_.”

“Such a slut,” Jared taunts, snapping his hips even harder. “You’re just a slut, a filthy little whore, aren’t you?”

Jensen just whimpers in response.

If anything, it seems to make Misha even more brutal; this time he allows no time for Jensen to adjust, ramming his cock down into his throat again and again, and this time, when Jensen chokes after a particularly harsh thrust, Misha keeps his cock down until Jensen almost cries.

Jensen doesn’t know how long they keep it up. He lies there dazedly, feels the pressure building up in his balls again and _god_ , he’s so hard, he _needs_ to come but Jared and Misha aren’t even bothering to touch his cock. He strains at his cuffs, struggling weakly, and earns himself a slap on his thigh.

“Just take it,” Jared growls. He grabs Jensen’s ankle, again bends his legs up to fold him in half, trapping him down.

“Need to come, please I need to come,” Jensen’s so far gone that he doesn’t care that he’s babbling, begging, the moment Misha’s cock slips out of his mouth and he can form broken, raspy words. He pulls at his restraints again, desperate to get a hand on his cock, and keens when the straps barely budge.

“Oh I do love it when they scream,” Misha murmurs. He shoves two fingers into Jensen’s mouth, presses his tongue down. “I’m going to come in your mouth, Jensen,” he says silkily, “And you’re going to swallow it all.”

Tears forming at the corners of his eyes, Jensen nods jerkily, opens his mouth wide again for Misha. This time Misha angles himself deliberately against the roof of his mouth to gag him, Jensen desperately heaving as he spasms around Misha. And then Misha’s coming, spurting thick salty ropes of cum right into his throat, and Jensen weakly swallows it down, hot and humiliated.

“Damn,” Jared says, and fucks into Jensen faster, balls slapping obscenely against Jensen’s ass, “Gonna come too, Misha, get him for me.”

Jensen dimly registers Misha leaning over him, deliberately rubbing his balls against his chin. And suddenly Misha’s jerking him off, callused hand dry and rough on his cock, but it’s enough, rips his orgasm out of him with such force that Jensen wails, his body tensing and arching up almost painfully. He’s barely aware of Jared coming too, set off by Jensen as he clenches down on his cock.

Misha smears Jensen’s cum over his stomach, rubbing it into his bellybutton as Jared pulls out.

“That was perfect,” Misha says. He straddles Jensen, pulls his head up with one hand in his hair, the other prodding at his lips to make Jensen lick the rest of his own cum off.

Jensen is still breathing heavily, his chest heaving with exhaustion. “Le’m off,” he mumbles sluggishly, his eyes fluttering shut. He feels completely, thoroughly ruined.

He feels someone unlocking his cuffs, pulling him up. His head swims as his world rights itself around him, and Jensen lets himself slump forward into waiting arms. It’s Jared.

“How was it?” Jared says, oddly soothing.

“Best sex in m’life,” Jensen tries to say, but his body refuses to cooperate enough to sound out the words. He feels Jared lovingly kiss him on the forehead.

“It’s okay,” Jared says. “But for now…”

There’s suddenly a sharp prick at the side of his neck, making him jerk listlessly, confused. He tries to turn about, a hand going to his neck, but Jared catches his wrist.

“Go to sleep, Jensen,” Jared says.

And so he does.

 

 

 

Jared and Misha are in the middle of breakfast the next morning, hot coffee and buttery croissants with bacon, when there’s a scream.

It’s Jensen.

They don’t go to him right away, let him wallow in his fear, lazily finishing their food as Jensen’s screams taper down into hysterical sobs. He falls silent by the time they’re done, which makes Jared slightly disappointed; he left the playroom door open so they could hear him from the kitchen.

When they finally go to check on him, Jared has to stop in the doorway to collect himself; Jensen is _beautiful_. He’s naked, tied down spread-eagled to the bed, a simple blindfold over his eyes. The blindfold is wet with tears, dark patches that lead to stained tracks on his face. His lips are plush and red and swollen, where he’s clearly bitten himself in his terror.

Misha gets there first, cupping a wet cheek. Jensen tries to turn away from him, but Misha hisses and catches him in a tightly bruising grip.

“Why are you doing this,” Jensen says. He’s trembling so hard that his entire body is visibly quivering. “What do you want from me?”

“Oh, _Jensen,_ baby,” Misha croons.

Jared drops down to sit on the pillows next to Jensen’s head. He leans over, kisses his forehead in a repeat of the last gesture Jensen should remember from the previous night, and delights in watching Jensen go rigid at the tender display.

“We’re going to have so much fun with you.”

 

 


End file.
